Betrothed
by lillialyce
Summary: Oneshot. Fairy Tale AU. Grimmjow is on a mission: Take the prince of Hueco Mundo to the Soul Society to be married. But this Prince Ulquiorra is nothing like Grimmjow had expected, and he finds that this time he can't do what Aizen wants.


**Warnings: Mild cursing, boyxboy, OOCness (especially at the end), cheesy overused plot, predictability, and a scene that is borderline M.**

* * *

"Yer _obviously_ the most qualified fer the job," the silver-haired man's grin made Grimmjow place a hand on his sword unconsciously.

"What job?" he asked, suspicious. He stood up from his low bow, annoyed that he had to submit to yet another person.

Aizen looked up from the letter in his hands. Because it was not a formal occasion, Grimmjow and his audience—a party of three, the king and his two consultants—were in the throne room of the palace. "I need you to escort the prince somewhere." The vague description of his task was unnerving, and Grimmjow bit the inside of his mouth to keep from lashing out a few select words to the king of Hueco Mundo. "Ulquiorra is going to be wed," he added, as though he was clearing the air.

Grimmjow let out a large sigh. He didn't fucking _care_ what happened between all the kingdoms, and the last thing he wanted to do was escort some dumb-ass bitchy prince to the other kingdom to marry their dumb-ass bitchy princess. The king's smug look irritated Grimmjow.

"I'm not a babysitter," he snapped, annoyed. The blind man beside the king frowned, and Grimmjow pretended not to notice. "Why can't you find some expert bodyguard—or the Espada—to watch your fucking son?"

Aizen seemed to ignore him. "The alliance with the Soul Society will benefit our kingdom tremendously, Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez. I assume you _want_ the best for Hueco Mundo?" He was smiling, but there was a hidden threat in his words. Grimmjow had been told that the king of Hueco Mundo was like this—laughing silently at the discomfort of others, malicious, cold.

Much as the king was annoying him, Grimmjow wasn't stupid. "Of course, Aizen-_sama_," he growled. The blind man beside the king seemed eager to pounce, so Grimmjow added, "I only want the best for Hueco Mundo."

The king nodded, a cold smile making his eyes glint. "Gin, go fetch Ulquiorra. He may have his precious Murciélago." The silver-haired man, Ichimaru Gin, stalked away. "Grimmjow," Aizen began again, "I'm leaving the care of my son in your hands. I'm sure you understand why I cannot supply you two with anything for travel."

No, Grimmjow did _not_ understand why Aizen wasn't helping them. "Why don't you send the Espada?" Grimmjow tried, running a hand through his wild blue hair. The Espada were in Aizen's control at all times, and the only reason they weren't escorting this prince must have been because Aizen didn't see the matter as important. But if it came to keeping his son alive in enemy territory, Grimmjow had to wonder. "It's obvious—"

"The subject is closed." Aizen rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes. Grimmjow stood there, silently fuming.

He had been called from his home to serve the king for this mission because of his expert skills as a swordsman. Grimmjow had been told that he would have been ranked sixth, had he gone out for the elite Espada that Aizen used as a personal army. Grimmjow felt a burst of bitterness and suddenly wished he _had_ joined the Espada. He had not done so on the basis that the king was going to order him around on pointless missions such as these. He would have loved to show off his skills, but he still wanted the dignity of having no direct leader.

He didn't _want_ to travel with anyone back to the Soul Society. He didn't _care_ about the politics behind Aizen's decisions. But he had to, if he wanted to escape execution. Those who disobeyed the king would pay the ultimate price.

Outside, the sun was starting to fall from its high point.

Grimmjow estimated four hours before sunset. To entertain himself, Grimmjow tried to imagine the Ulquiorra he was going to escort. The king's son was probably crazy, forced to interact with Aizen on a daily basis. Grimmjow pictured the prince to be at least eighteen, arrogant, and well-trained in swordsmanship. If that was the case, the prince would be the perfect match for the Soul Society princess, who was skilled in the flash step.

A war was most likely going to occur between the kingdoms, and though Grimmjow wanted no part in it, he knew he was playing a pivotal role by escorting the prince to the Soul Society for this alliance.

"Gin. Ulquiorra," Aizen acknowledged with a nod. Grimmjow automatically bowed when Aizen's eyes burned him. His own eyes, however, remained focused on the open threshold the two men were to walk through.

Grimmjow's breath hitched as the man, the prince, sidled into the room. He was nothing like Grimmjow thought he would look. The man was dressed in all white, a stark contrast with his dark hair and green eyes. Tears were etched into his face, teal lines that made the prince look even younger. Around his waist was a sword, presumably the Murciélago Aizen had referred to. Grimmjow's heart jumped at the sight of such a young man.

His fingers began toying with the sword at his own waist, Pantera. He could feel Aizen's unwavering gaze, and he imagined slicing his sword through the man's neck.

"I am Aizen-sama's son, the Prince Ulquiorra." Ulquiorra looked _nothing_ like Aizen, Grimmjow noted, his face heating as he stared.

"Heh." Grimmjow's eyes traced the small form of the prince, forcing the other to be quite uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to push the man against a wall and take him dry, knowing fully well what it was his body was craving from the smaller man.

It seemed Aizen knew the reaction he was getting just looking at Ulquiorra, who must have garnered this type of attention countless times before. The king chuckled, "You are taken with my son, Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez." Grimmjow wasn't sure whether to be grateful or resentful with Aizen's amusement. He was glad that it wasn't utter disgust, at least.

Ulquiorra stood in silence, unusually oblivious for a royal.

Grimmjow was suddenly thrilled to have been born in the outskirts of Hueco Mundo. Sure, he hated that his low-class birth meant Aizen and his dumb-ass Espada stepped over him, but at least it meant he didn't see the king daily.

Licking his lips and looking away, Grimmjow muttered gruffly, "You sure the Espada can't do this?"

Gin, who had been watching Grimmjow's reaction, seemed to grin more widely. "You woulda been the Sexta." Grimmjow growled and tried to focus his sights on something else, especially when he felt the curious green gaze burning through him.

"Ulquiorra," Aizen announced, effectively ending Grimmjow's discomfort—though Grimmjow would never act grateful to the man who created the son to cause the trouble originally. "Accompany this man to the Soul Society and marry their princess." Grimmjow stared at the other man, ready to gauge his reaction. Green eyes blinked at him temptingly. Grimmjow was itching to both strangle and kiss this Ulquiorra.

"Very well." There was no surprise in his voice, only acceptance, frustrating Grimmjow more. "Am I correct in assuming this journey will be on foot?" It was too dangerous for them to travel past the Kingdom of Karakura's territory if they would be too easy to spot. Grimmjow's and Ulquiorra's swordsmanship skills combined were assumed to be enough protection.

"Yes."

Aizen gave no explanation, and yet Ulquiorra bowed. "I will return as quickly as should be expected."

Unable to contain himself, Grimmjow yelled, "The fuck's wrong with you?"

"It doesn't matter what I'm sent to do as long as I follow orders," he explained, hands in his pockets. It sounded like he was reciting something. There was a short pause before Ulquiorra continued speaking, "Please act in regards to my father's status. He is a king of noble birth, unlike," he took in Grimmjow's appearance, "you."

Grimmjow clenched his jaw, frustration toward his heritage not quite overshadowed by anger toward the prince. His sword was close to his hands, he could just slice through the little man's neck and it would all be over. Maybe he'd get a good fuck in, too. He could feel Aizen's gaze, however—once again he was thankful to not be a permanent resident of the palace they called Las Noches—and he bit his words.

Ulquiorra began walking away, and Grimmjow, feeling awkward, moved forward to do the same.

"Grimmjow." He turned around to face the king. Aizen gave him a final, cold smile before waving the two men off. "Remember your place."

.

Ulquiorra slid his hands into his pockets, staring directly ahead and down the path. He had no idea where the other man was leading him and didn't want to trust him, but Aizen-sama had given him direct orders.

Quite frankly, Ulquiorra thought of the blue-haired man as trash. Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez was his name, according to the conversation he had noted in the Las Noches palace.

The older man kept sending odd looks toward Ulquiorra, who, if his life depended on it, could not decipher the meaning behind them. It seemed that Aizen-sama had been able to interpret Grimmjow's actions, and Ulquiorra had intended to ask about them, but the words died on his tongue when he remembered that a prince did not ask unnecessary questions. He would have demanded answers from Grimmjow, but it would be beneath him.

His eyes watched the other man thoughtfully, as he hadn't seen many other people living in Las Noches. Grimmjow was at least a half-foot taller than he was, though he doubted the man was stronger. Very few people could overpower him, in both strength and status. Ulquiorra, if he was not the king's son, could have been Fourth in the Espada. As per the conversation in the palace, Grimmjow would have been Sixth.

Ulquiorra didn't want to lie, but he'd felt a tiny burst of emotion, excitement, when Ichimaru had arrived with his sword and told him—albeit rudely—to leave.

He looked at the sky, which was bright orange from the setting sun. The blue-haired man suddenly stopped walking, and Ulquiorra nearly ran into him. If he hadn't been overly aware of his surroundings, he would have. "Why have we stopped?"

The man turned around, a bitter and sinister smile on his face. "We're about to enter the Kingdom of Karakura." Ulquiorra peered around the other man's body, curious about the other kingdom. He noticed Grimmjow stiffen when the wind ruffled his hair and his uniform. "You'll have to stay close to me," he muttered gruffly.

"I can protect myself," Ulquiorra responded curtly, coldly. It was a trait he inherited from his father. He looked up into this man's face, finding the blue eyes were scorching him with a strange intensity he had never felt before. Something was burning in the man's eyes, and Ulquiorra was determined to figure out what it was before the end of their journey.

"Really." Grimmjow seemed exasperated. "Then why the _hell_ am I here?" Ulquiorra simply stared. He was not expected to answer questions from trash. "Well, whatever. You'll have to stay close because you're fucking dressed like a—"

Ulquiorra's icy stare threatened Grimmjow to say another word. "I don't believe my clothing will endanger our lives." He placed a hand on his sword.

"It's not like they won't know what you look like." It seemed like a hasty lie. Ulquiorra continued to watch him, so he frowned. "Look, you're dressed in obvious I'm-the-prince-so-fuck-me clothes. Anyone can tell."

Ulquiorra looked down at his uniform, the black and white he was accustomed to—expected to—wearing daily. He wasn't sure how his clothes were related to the man's rather colorful words.

"You can't do anything about it now," the older man snapped at Ulquiorra's blank expression. "If you can defend yourself, great. Be my guest. Just stay close so Aizen doesn't fry my ass for not taking care of you."

"I'm not a child, trash," he muttered, staring at the man's face. "You need not take care of me." Grimmjow was impatient and he knew nothing about respecting his superiors, about holding back language the prince should not have to hear.

The man in front of him stiffened, ready to draw his sword. "You're really asking for it, aren't you, princey?"

Ulquiorra blinked, "You would lose against me in a fight." He was matter-of-fact. Ulquiorra was not on the journey for friendship, and the end of the road would not lead him to love. He was only to do as Aizen directed, which was to follow Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez to the Soul Society and marry their princess.

"We'll see," Grimmjow snarled. Ulquiorra watched him retreat before picking up his pace and following, something he was comfortable in doing.

.

Naturally, upon stepping into the territory of the Kingdom of Karakura, they found themselves in a predicament.

"Aww, is the little prince _lost_?" one of them mocked, grabbing a handful of Ulquiorra's dark hair. Ulquiorra pulled out of his grasp, his sword dragging across the enemy's chest. Blood spurted from the wound as the man cursed. He threw another punch as Ulquiorra swung his sword properly, ending the man's life.

Looking unaffected, another man laughed, "Does he need help back to _Hueco Mundo_?" Grimmjow, who had just sliced away the life of a blond man, turned around to see Ulquiorra sliding his weapon across the man's neck.

"Wonder what he's doin' here. We should report this to the Kurosakis, right?"

Grimmjow twirled his sword menacingly. "You can't beat the shit out of some weakling"—though Ulquiorra was, as apparent by this battle alone, not weak—"and think you won, asshole." Adrenaline pumped through his veins as their swords clashed. He would never tire of the feeling of holding life in his hands and slicing it away.

He finished his battles off within minutes, a victory smile making its way onto his face. He was exhilarated looking at the three useless corpses he added to Ulquiorra's four. Grimmjow hated to admit it, but the prince of Hueco Mundo actually _knew_ how to fight.

Behind him, Ulquiorra slid his zanpakuto back into its sheath. "Are all the citizens of this kingdom garbage?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "I think your ugly-ass clothes gave you away. Wear something else so I don't have to save you again." He was referring to the all-white clothes that signified the people of Hueco Mundo. Aizen seemed to have a fondness for the color, just as the people of the Soul Society enjoyed wearing black. The people in this kingdom had no preference, but their clothes weren't even remotely similar to those of Hueco Mundo.

"You didn't save me," he pointed out. "Regardless, I don't have anything else. Aizen-sama—"

"I don't give a damn about what your _Aizen-sama_ told you. Do what _I_ tell you." Grimmjow had never met anyone so frustrating, both in personality and appearance.

Ulquiorra blinked at him warily, "Do not forget that I am several leagues higher than you, in power and class."

Grimmjow could feel his blood boiling. "I could kill you right now, so don't push it." His fingers clamped around Ulquiorra's neck of their own accord, pushing him back against the wall roughly. He felt Ulquiorra squirm underneath his hand, and he felt only a slight amount of heat burn his face when he took in the smaller man's disheveled—and fucking _hot_—appearance. "Aizen sent me to lead you, so I'll lead you _my_ way."

"I am not required to follow your orders, trash," Ulquiorra reiterated, looking up to meet Grimmjow's eyes. The look on his face seemed to say that he was _letting_ Grimmjow push him around. It served to further annoy him. "I only need you to lead me to the Soul Society for Aizen-sama's cause."

"You fucking _will_ need me if you want to make it to Soul Society alive." His grip tightened slightly. "Call me trash one more time, and I will kill you. And your poor precious _Aizen-sama_ won't know what to do, will he?"

"Aizen-sama does not need me," Ulquiorra said with an unusual amount of honesty. Pushing Grimmjow off with ease, it appeared Ulquiorra was uncomfortable with his position. He had only been toying with Grimmjow when it came to being pressed against the wall. "This alliance serves as amusement for him."

Grimmjow looked at him oddly; Ulquiorra was definitely a strange one. "You don't care that you're marrying someone you've never met and you think _I'm_ trash."

Ulquiorra paused, "It is what I was born to do."

.

Ulquiorra looked around the Kingdom of Karakura as though he was seeing the world for the first time. He was, in a sense, for he had never been permitted outside of the Las Noches palace. It was dark, but there were strange light fixtures that illuminated their paths. In Hueco Mundo they used torches, and he believed they were a much better source of lighting.

"Stop acting like that," the blue-haired man snapped from behind him.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Ulquiorra stopped walking and faced his companion. He did not understand this man. While in Las Noches, he'd associated with Aizen-sama's Espada—though it had been rare, for despite their strength, they were still lower than the king's son—and with Ichimaru Gin and Kaname Tosen. He had been able to understand them instantly, as though he was reading an open book.

Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez, on the other hand, confused him.

Never before had Ulquiorra dealt with someone who did not recognize that there was a hierarchy, that _he_ was higher, stronger. He had never found someone who enjoyed arguing with him, and yet looked at him as more than just an ornament to Aizen-sama's plans. Grimmjow had a foul mouth, took pleasure in fighting—Ulquiorra would have been blind if he hadn't noticed—and found the need to be in constant physical contact with Ulquiorra.

"Like _that_," Grimmjow gestured toward Ulquiorra's body, "like you've never seen anything before. You're a fucking baby."

Ulquiorra frowned. "You're acting like trash." He expected the other man to lunge at him again, to grab his throat—only because Ulquiorra just didn't find the need to fight those lower than him—and have the intent to kill, mixed with the emotion Ulquiorra _would_ interpret, smoldering in his eyes.

Blue eyes seemed to glisten with murderous intention again, but he backed down abruptly. "Let's just find you some new clothes," he growled, poking Ulquiorra's nose. Ulquiorra blinked. "God knows you need them."

"What did you say?"

"Just stop talking." He grabbed Ulquiorra's arm and pushed him into a nearby shop. Ulquiorra allowed him this small victory and used it as an opportunity to further examine him. "It's fucking annoying."

.

Grimmjow thrust the green shirt and jeans at Ulquiorra, moving him into a fitting room. "If you say anything, I'll rip your clothes off myself." And he was sorely tempted.

Ulquiorra eyed the shirt warily. It was large, undoubtedly, but Grimmjow could see no other problems with it. "I cannot lower myself to this."

He glared, stomping over and pushing the smaller man against the wall of the small changing station. His fingers taunted the zipper of Ulquiorra's white jacket—what kind of clothes did the royals in Hueco Mundo wear?—itching to pull it down. "I won't hesitate." Somehow, knowing that Ulquiorra was stronger than him was reason enough to try and prove himself.

"Am I more appealing to you pressed against a wall?" Ulquiorra taunted him. Grimmjow didn't feel up to denying the truth. Ulquiorra sighed, his cold hand forcing Grimmjow away. "Let me remind you that I am several classes above you, a prince to your peasant. I do not appreciate this."

Their gazes clashed, and Grimmjow sauntered out of the fitting room fuming and ignoring the look of the employee who had seen them both in there.

Grimmjow hated that Ulquiorra thought himself so much higher than everyone else because of his birth status. He wanted so much to knock some sense into the man, but he had a mission to complete.

Moments later, Ulquiorra emerged, sword in hand. He was wearing dark pants—why the fuck did Grimmjow choose ones that tempted him—and the shirt was too big for him, but Grimmjow was not in the mood to find another one. He turned to the sales lady. "We'll buy these."

She looked at Grimmjow's sword and then at the clothes on the prince. The pile of Ulquiorra's old clothes lay in a heap in the fitting room.

"Oh, umm, we don't let people leave the store wearing—" Grimmjow glared at her and she stopped talking, eyeing at the sword in Ulquiorra's hand, then the sword at Grimmjow's waist. She smiled oddly. "Sure. Let me just cut the tags for you, and, okay, that's about thirty dollars, umm, do you want to pay in cash or—"

Grimmjow left the store, dragging Ulquiorra—though he told himself it wasn't because Ulquiorra was allowing him to do so—after him.

Deciding to ignore everything that had just taken place, which had indeed been thievery, Ulquiorra tried to see if he could fasten the sword to his waist. "Where are we sleeping?"

Grimmjow sighed, wanting nothing more than to be back in his home or doing just about _anything_ didn't involve escorting a hot, annoying, and clueless prince around. "I don't have much money from this kingdom, so you'll have to suck it up and sleep where I tell you to."

To his surprise, Ulquiorra nodded. "Ichimaru said it would come to this."

They walked in silence before reaching a park, the moon illuminating a path for them.

"You're sleeping on the grass. Hope it's _trashy_ enough for you," Grimmjow growled sarcastically, refusing to look at the other man. He had a feeling that if he did, his mind would make Ulquiorra hot and sweaty and naked on the grass.

Ulquiorra lay down awkwardly, completely oblivious to Grimmjow's lust, his hair splaying out around him. "I will see you tomorrow. Good night."

Grimmjow sat down next to him, staring at the moon. Minutes passed, and soon Grimmjow could hear the deep breathing of the man next to him. He turned to face Ulquiorra, tempted to shake him awake just for the hell of it.

Instead, though, he was burdened with how _young_ Ulquiorra looked when he was sleeping. His heart jerked violently—he could not figure out why, because Ulquiorra's appeal only went so far when he had a shitty personality—and he lay down so they were side by side. He'd just had the strangest day of his life, and he knew exactly what kind of dreams he would be cursed with.

.

Ulquiorra woke up before the other man, and he assumed it was because he had fallen asleep first. He sat up slowly, his large green shirt sliding off his shoulders. The sleeves were ridiculous, worthless Kingdom of Karakura trash covering his hands. The sword around his waist was rather uncomfortable. "Garbage," he muttered, flicking blades of grass from his clothes and hair.

"Up already?" Grimmjow asked groggily from beside him. He rose slowly, clearly not in the mood of starting another day of travel. An annoying smirk spread on his face as he took in the giant shirt and Ulquiorra's appearance. "I bet you feel like a fucking _god_ wearing that." He roughly brushed some grass from the prince's hair.

Ulquiorra ignored his comment and moved from Grimmjow's touch. "How long until we arrive in the Soul Society?"

"Maybe a day or two."

"I see." He felt anxiety bubble in him. The arranged marriage would be a step closer if that was the case.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Ulquiorra was content with not talking, but it seemed as though Grimmjow was not.

"Hey, what're the tears for?" the man asked suddenly. Ulquiorra touched his face, confused. He had never cried, and he certainly would not cry at that moment, where there was no real reason to. "No, your. . ." He seemed to be searching for the words. "Your scars. Why do you have them?"

Ulquiorra was unsure why the other man was asking questions, personal ones at that. "I don't know," he responded curtly.

"How do you not fucking _know_? They're on your face."

"They've always been there, and it never seemed appropriate to ask Aizen-sama why." They remained silent for another few minutes.

"You're an idiot," Grimmjow announced, reaching forward and tousling Ulquiorra's hair. It was the second time that day where he had broken the rule that people of lower birth status were not to touch those with royal blood.

Yet something fluttered in his chest at that exact moment, something as foreign to Ulquiorra as conversation with this stranger, as peculiar as the looks he continually garnered from the older man. He reached up and grabbed Grimmjow's wrist, hoping to settle the feeling.

It didn't work.

His inability to answer the question himself made the question bubble forward. "Why do you look at me like that?" Ulquiorra asked, staring up into the other man's eyes.

The other man smirked, as though he knew the answer but didn't want to share it. That someone of lesser birth and power could hold something over his head made Ulquiorra frown. Grimmjow was such a strange man. Knowing he wouldn't get an answer, Ulquiorra chose not to press the matter.

Ulquiorra tried to interpret the gaze that was searching him, the gaze that was making him feel small, insignificant, like the garbage he knew he was not.

**.**

"There! Smack in the middle of the park!"

Grimmjow sprung into action, standing and grabbing the hilt of his zanpakuto. He was eager for battle, eager to leave the nonexistent conversation—and awkward staring contest—he was having with Ulquiorra. He noticed Ulquiorra rise, shifting his sleeves so his hands were seen.

Three men clambered toward them. One was an orange-haired man Grimmjow immediately recognized as the heir of the Kingdom of Karakura.

"That's the prince of Hueco Mundo," the black-haired man in the group declared, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"What are you doing here?" Ichigo Kurosaki, the soon-to-be-king of the Kingdom of Karakura, asked. He unsheathed his blade. "This is our territory, and Aizen should know what we do to trespassers."

"Some shopkeeper said that two men stole from her," the man with the glasses said quickly. "One was supposed to have blue hair while the other," he looked at Ulquiorra, "was dressed like a royal from Hueco Mundo."

"We don't have much use for the blue-haired guy," Ichigo said loudly to the other men. "But I'm pretty sure the kingdom would want to see the prince of Hueco Mundo."

The man with the glasses, Uryuu Ishida, nodded. "We can incapacitate them easily, based on appearances alone." Ulquiorra said nothing, though his look toward Uryuu Ishida was enough to show what he was thinking.

Anger surged through Grimmjow's body. "I'm _right here_, asshole. I can hear everything you're saying."

"Then I won't have to repeat myself." Ichigo smiled, pointing his blade. "Chad, Uryuu, take care of the prince." The other two nodded, quickly following through with their orders. Grimmjow was surprised that the strongest of the trio was going to take him on instead of Ulquiorra, but he didn't protest. He also knew, in the back of his mind, that these battles were only for entertainment; he was supposed to be focusing on getting the prince to the Soul Society. "I'll get rid of this one."

Grimmjow laughed maniacally, excited. "I'd like to see you try."

Admittedly, their battle was evenly matched. Their swords clashed frequently, the occasional wound slicing through the soft skin of the opponent. Grimmjow had a large gash across his chest while Ichigo had one through his left arm and a small cut across his cheek.

During the fight, Grimmjow had caught glimpses of Ulquiorra's fight with the other two. Ulquiorra had a knack for dodging, it seemed, for he was not yet cut by the numerous spirit arrows of Uryuu Ishida, nor was he injured by the arm of Sado Yasutora. Grimmjow hated to admit it, but there was a natural grace, a beauty, almost, in Ulquiorra's movements.

"Oi, Chad," Ichigo addressed the final member of his group during his battle, "can you carry them back when I'm through?" His comment's purpose was to annoy Grimmjow, and it worked quite well.

"Okay," the man called 'Chad' grunted, as though his own fight was not taking a toll on him. It was obvious, though, that he and Uryuu Ishida were going to lose. It was as though Ulquiorra was prolonging his battle to give Grimmjow more time. If that was the case, Grimmjow wouldn't have it.

Grimmjow glared at the burly man as he swung his sword down. "Touch me and die." He dodged a slash of Ichigo's sword swiftly, the zanpakuto inches above his head. He sent a hit toward the orange-haired man, who easily moved out of the way.

Barely a few minutes later, Ulquiorra defeated his two opponents, unable to stop the inevitable. He was sliding Murciélago back into its sheath as the battle between Ichigo and Grimmjow reached a stalemate.

There was open conflict in Ichigo's movements, as he now debated between caring for his friends and fighting the prince of Hueco Mundo's bodyguard, in a sense. His eyes shifted back and forth between his teammates, lying on the ground and bleeding, and Grimmjow, smirking at him with Ulquiorra at his side.

With a defeated sigh, the orange-haired man withdrew his sword.

Grimmjow, annoyed that his fight was over, gestured to Ulquiorra. "Move!" His mission was to deliver the prince to the Soul Society, and he could always come back to fight Kurosaki after he was through.

Ulquiorra glanced at the redhead and nodded, though he and Grimmjow did not believe in running from a fight, even one that had closed for such pointless reasons. The two ran from the park.

Ichigo watched the two of Hueco Mundo retreat before turning to deal with his friends.

.

Ulquiorra looked at Grimmjow as though he was examining him. The slash across the other man's chest had been covered up but not healed—a prince with no training in healing and unused to being injured could only do so much to help another—and Ulquiorra had no physical injuries from fighting the weaker two of the trio.

"We can stay here for the rest of the day and travel at night," Grimmjow muttered. Ulquiorra nodded, agreeing with the logic that they were to remain unseen for a short period of time. He'd learned from the encounter at the park that the people in the Kingdom of Karakura did not frequent swords as Hueco Mundo and the Soul Society did.

"Aizen-sama will not be pleased if I am not wed to the princess of the Soul Society," Ulquiorra said pointedly. Had he been the one to deal with Ichigo Kurosaki, the battle would have easily resulted in victory.

On pure impulse, he reached forward and touched the cloth on Grimmjow's chest. He was curious about the wound, for he had never attempted to heal an injury before. He felt the blue-haired man shiver beneath his touch.

Grimmjow took Ulquiorra's hand away from the bandages. "You're cold," he explained, rubbing the prince's fingers. Ulquiorra had not meant to make him uncomfortable, but his curiosity had taken precedence over proper behavior. He chastised himself for acting so rash.

"Strange," Ulquiorra said aloud, though it was meant to be a silent thought to describe the man before him.

"What?"

"You don't look at me as a prince," he clarified, deciding to make his thoughts known. It would, perhaps, answer his rising number questions. "You're beneath me."

Grimmjow smiled, though it was hollow and bitter. "Aizen fucked up raising you, 'cuz I sure as _hell_ am not below anyone. 'Specially you." His answer, if anything, made Ulquiorra frown. It contradicted everything he knew because Grimmjow was _supposed_ to be lower than all the residents of Las Noches, for he had not only rejected a position in the Espada, he had also been born in the poorer area of Hueco Mundo.

"I'm stronger than you," Ulquiorra pointed out, "as well as a part of the Espada. You were born as nothing."

"I could kick your ass in a fight," Grimmjow sneered. It was a lie, and an obvious one at that, but the sheer outlandishness of it all made Ulquiorra wonder.

Grimmjow didn't seem to think there was a hierarchy, but Ulquiorra was sure there was. Grimmjow thought it was alright to berate him, despite his status as a prince. Grimmjow didn't hold anything back, though Ulquiorra was used to everyone doing so for the sake of Aizen-sama's son.

Yes, Ulquiorra thought, Grimmjow was a strange man.

.

They were hiding in the shadows of an alley by an abandoned building. Grimmjow had used the meager amount of money he had to buy food, and the two were hiding and eating quietly. They'd used the bathroom in the restaurant before excusing themselves—rationalizing that they did not want to be seen again—to eat in an alley.

The meal was nothing fancy or expensive, but Grimmjow found it entertaining to watch the young prince eat. His original reaction had been that the food was worthless and not suited for him, but he'd later deduced—after a bit of arguing and Grimmjow's persuasion—that Aizen would have made him eat whatever Grimmjow served. Ulquiorra treated everything as though it was a delicacy; he put only small portions in his mouth at a time, sat stiffly, kept crumbs from scattering. Grimmjow, on the other hand, devoured his food quickly, uncaring of whether or not he was clean.

"Take your time, princess," he smirked, his eyes never leaving Ulquiorra. Green eyes met his gaze questioningly, and the innocence merged with arrogance made Grimmjow angry. "Why am I traveling with you?" he snapped.

There was a long pause. "Aizen-sama sent you to travel with me because you are not part of the Espada," Ulquiorra said, seeming ready to gauge a reaction.

Grimmjow frowned, not fully knowing where the conversation—if the dialogues between Grimmjow and Ulquiorra could even be _considered_ a conversation—was headed. "He thinks I'm fuckin' weak?" He didn't even want to know what made Ulquiorra bring it up.

"Expendable." Grimmjow glared, fingers itching to strangle Aizen more than ever before. "But I disagree."

"Heh," he snorted. "Here I thought you agreed with everything he said."

"Life is easily replaced, despite Aizen-sama's claims regarding his own life." Ulquiorra seemed to search Grimmjow's mind with the intense look he gave.

"You're not on the Espada," Grimmjow said slowly, starting to recognize the meaning behind Ulquiorra's words but still not fully comprehending why Ulquiorra had brought up the topic. "Does that make you replaceable to him?"

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "It seems more appropriate to risk the lives of the weak. I can fight, but Aizen-sama prefers for me to stay clean."

"That's _shit_!" Grimmjow almost shouted. "I'm not Aizen's, or anyone's, toy." What Ulquiorra was saying served to further cement his reasons for staying out of Aizen's Espada. Grimmjow was glad that he'd made the decision.

They both remained silent for a moment. "What do you believe?" The words seemed to tumble out of Ulquiorra's mouth, and it was obvious that he wasn't quite sure what was meant by the question.

Grimmjow sat still. It was as though Ulquiorra was trying to actually talk to and understand him, yet Grimmjow wasn't willing to think that the prince would lower his standards to something 'beneath him.'

In the quiet, Grimmjow could feel Ulquiorra searching him for answers. It was uncomfortable, and he hated that he couldn't figure out why Ulquiorra wanted to know.

"Unlike you," he murmured, a slightly cold edge to his tone, "I don't believe in _him_."

.

"We're going to go and you're gonna marry the bitch 'cuz I know you really wan—"

"I don't," he said without thinking. His mind had been elsewhere, and for a moment he had honestly thought he was in Hueco Mundo with Aizen-sama. Ulquiorra's voice had been soft, ages away, and he hoped that Grimmjow hadn't heard. He didn't know why he had said such a thing. His opinion did not matter, especially if it disregarded Aizen-sama's intentions. He did not lie and he _couldn't_ lie to the first person he ever talked to that wasn't close to Aizen-sama.

This Grimmjow man was changing him in so little time, and Ulquiorra did not like it. Already, he had found himself asking Grimmjow personal questions—and telling him unnecessary information regarding Aizen-sama's ideologies—and _wondering_ about him in general.

It would be meaningless for him to form any type of relationship with someone Aizen considered trash.

"What?" Grimmjow demanded him to repeat himself. Ulquiorra had never confided in anyone before, never had a companion to talk to. The unfamiliar concept startled him, and he hated his actions for being so low.

He wanted to hold back his words, but as a rule he did not lie. He couldn't come up with a good way to evade the question, so he settled on the truth. "I don't want to marry her."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes and sighed softly, reminding them both that he was only fifteen, still quite young. He wondered why he was telling this man so much, and tried to will it all away, to take back everything he had said. Perhaps then he wouldn't feel so strange. Maybe then he wouldn't feel like his whole body was aflame.

"Then why do it?" The answer, however, was obvious to both of them. It was simply the act of Ulquiorra having to _admit_ his feelings that made Grimmjow ask.

Ulquiorra was silent. He still wanted to lie, to make the other man stop asking questions. More than anything he wanted to rid himself of the alien ache in his chest that was both surprisingly pleasant and utterly infuriating.

"Aizen-sama asked it of me."

.

"I used to live, alone, on the border of Hueco Mundo and the Kingdom of Karakura," Grimmjow explained, the first time he was ever telling anyone about his childhood. "It wasn't like I was _deprived_; I just had to steal food and shit until I was old enough to work. I guess my mom abandoned me."

Ulquiorra stared at him, "I was told that people like you were garbage."

Grimmjow laughed bitterly, "Your fucking _Aizen-sama_ is a terrible leader." Based on what Ulquiorra had said, it was beginning to seem more and more obvious how deadly the king of Hueco Mundo really could be. Ulquiorra said nothing, seeming contemplative. "What about you?" he prodded, irked by the silence.

"What do you want to know?" Ulquiorra asked slowly. Grimmjow shrugged in a way of saying that he wanted to know everything. Grimmjow could see Ulquiorra didn't really want to share all of his history, but it was only fair after Grimmjow had told his own story.

They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes before Ulquiorra finally started talking.

"I was expected to stay quiet and do as Aizen-sama directed. . ."

.

"We've been here too long," Ulquiorra noted, looking up into the darkening sky. He couldn't believe that he and Grimmjow had talked for such an extended period of time, considering that the most he ever said was during his lessons.

"I don't have money," Grimmjow stretched his arms and stood up. The healing wound on his torso did not seem to pain him drastically. "And I really don't want the Kurosaki kid to track us down again."

Ulquiorra agreed with Grimmjow's logic, though he had to wonder why they had spent time socializing with each other instead of traveling toward the Soul Society.

He rose and moved closer to his companion, brushing dirt from his strange Kingdom of Karakura clothes. "If you've traveled here before, you should know somewhere to rest."

"I never said I didn't," he snapped, fire dancing in his eyes. Ulquiorra could still sense the unknown emotion in Grimmjow's expression, but he chose, once again, not to comment.

Ulquiorra had never connected with anyone before; he had never felt so much emotion—other than confusion and curiosity—whirling through him at once. He had, earlier in the day, decided that he liked the feelings he got from talking to Grimmjow, the fact that their conversations were not one-sided. He felt odd knowing that just one day with the man had changed him so much.

"Very well." They walked together in silence, Grimmjow leading Ulquiorra to "an abandoned house no one gives a fuck about."

The odd light fixtures of the Kingdom of Karakura illuminated their path, and Grimmjow didn't seem to be in the mood for talking. Ulquiorra wasn't sure how to act, especially since he would have to acknowledge his feelings—which were not a priority compared to Aizen-sama's plans—so he just ignored them.

They made their way to a pitiful-looking residence, and just by appearance Ulquiorra could tell that no one lived there. "How did you know this would be here?"

"Huh?" Grimmjow shook his head as though he was breaking out of a reverie. "Oh, I used to visit this place when I was younger."

Ulquiorra nodded, suddenly feeling worn out.

.

It wasn't like he and Ulquiorra were suddenly best friends, but because of how he had grown up, Grimmjow had never spent much time socializing. Maybe the fact that Ulquiorra was the first person he had _talked_ to in a long time would explain his instinct to. . . He didn't want to put it in words.

He had known from the beginning of their journey that he found the young prince attractive. Being in a room with him, though it was a run-down wooden shack, made it hard for Grimmjow to hold back.

Ulquiorra was staring at him in an oblivious manner, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The expression on his face jolted Grimmjow with the realization that he was four years older than the smaller man.

Ulquiorra broke the silence, surprisingly, when he gestured at Grimmjow and then at himself. "Is this considered," he paused, as though trying to choose a word, "friendship?"

Grimmjow felt his heart lurch. For once he didn't feel resentment or anger—or lust—toward this man who had gotten everything as a child. "Ulquiorra," he breathed, heart pounding. His body was demanding saturation.

Of course he denied it.

He was given a job to complete, and though he hadn't wanted it in the first place, he would not go against his word. Besides, he didn't want the weight of his mistake to plague him forever. If he did not deliver Ulquiorra to the Soul Society, his negligence would become the cause of a war and his untimely death-by-Aizen.

Sex would be great, but Grimmjow generally preferred being alive.

.

Ulquiorra was slightly discouraged when he found that Grimmjow had awoken before he had. Perhaps what had disturbed him the most was that he had awoken to find the older man staring at him, and Ulquiorra was unsure of how long it had been since Grimmjow had started.

He cleared his throat. "What will we be having for breakfast?"

Grimmjow stood up and brushed dust from his pants before shrugging. "I don't have enough money for that much, since Aizen didn't fucking give me anything."

"Aizen-sama had a purpose, I suppose," Ulquiorra murmured, quickly rising and making sure his sword was still in place. "How long until we reach the Soul Society?" How much time was there until he had to marry?

He was silent for a moment, running through the map of the Kingdom of Karakura in his head. "If we walk all day today, we could get there by sundown."

Ulquiorra nodded. "Aizen-sama will be pleased."

"I don't give a flying fuck about what he wants," Grimmjow snapped, face tinged pink. Ulquiorra understood Grimmjow's aversion to Aizen-sama, but following orders was necessary to survive in Hueco Mundo.

Ulquiorra also understood, though, that Aizen-sama had intended for the journey's tediousness to take a toll on Grimmjow, as a form of silent vengeance for rejecting a position on the Espada. It was not, however, revenge. It was an exercise of control: Grimmjow had to follow orders regardless of his own wishes, and Ulquiorra would arrive safely at the Soul Society. If either of the tasks failed, Aizen-sama had no need to worry. Grimmjow could be executed, Ulquiorra could be replaced, and the alliance with the Soul Society could be made in a different manner.

"We should begin travelling then," Ulquiorra said finally, motioning at the door so Grimmjow could lead. He was never comfortable without orders; it was how he had been raised.

"Right." If there was any form of doubt or suspicion in Grimmjow's tone, it was quickly covered by the necessity to reach the Soul Society quickly.

.

Grimmjow had to admit that Ulquiorra was a good travel companion. It was in Ulquiorra's nature to be seen and not heard—like a fucking prince_ss_ but it seemed that as long as Aizen was in power it didn't matter if Ulquiorra existed or not—so Grimmjow did most of the talking with the few Ulquiorra-ideas thrown in every so often.

That's not to say that they didn't talk. Occasionally Ulquiorra would comment on life in the Las Noches palace and Grimmjow would find a way to turn it into an argument. There were other times that Grimmjow would complain about Aizen, and Ulquiorra would, rather than correct him, turn it into a philosophical exchange. In the course of a few hours he had learned much about Las Noches and about the prince himself. He'd made a friend.

It was nice, to walk side-by-side and just breathe. The landscape in the Kingdom of Karakura was not even remotely similar to that of Hueco Mundo, so it was a pleasant change. Besides, along the way, Grimmjow got a decent view of his travel partner.

.

Ulquiorra didn't understand. His instincts told him that kissing Grimmjow—even though they were both male and Aizen-sama would not appreciate his most likely corrupt ideas—was _right_. He knew what kisses were, knew that they were shared between people who cared for each other. He didn't understand what love was, but he was sure that if he kissed Grimmjow he would know.

It was wrong where his thoughts were headed, for he was mistaking companionship and friendship with an entirely new and unknown territory. After all, he'd spent years virtually alone in Las Noches, and he'd grown so accustomed to his companions he was most likely just jumping at the first new person he saw.

Still, Ulquiorra figured there was a reason his skin felt warm whenever Grimmjow was near him; there had to be a good explanation for why his heart was acting up, why it beat so much faster when Grimmjow said things that could easily be misconstrued.

Ulquiorra assumed it meant that he cared for Grimmjow. They were friends, after all, and that's what friends felt toward each other.

.

"You're his son," Grimmjow insisted, almost stopping on the sidewalk they were walking on. "Aizen's _supposed_ to provide protection. Even if he chooses who yer supposed to marry, he should be there at least." Grimmjow, of course, was against any decisions regarding himself if he had no say in the matter. It seemed that Ulquiorra did not understand that concept.

There was a small pause before Ulquiorra said almost defensively, "Aizen-sama has his reasons, Grimmjow."

"I could've let you get killed from the beginning."

"You would have been executed and the alliance would have been made in another form," Ulquiorra stated matter-of-factly.

"That's fucking _stupid_!" Grimmjow exclaimed, stopping abruptly and causing Ulquiorra to slam into him. "You'd die if he fucking told you to!" It was something Grimmjow would never understand. He didn't exactly believe in the sanctity of life, but he did believe in making his own decisions and doing what he wanted to do.

Ulquiorra nodded and, in a breathy voice, muttered, "My life is meaningless without his direction."

It was definitely a recitation of something, Grimmjow decided. "Bullshit. If you just stopped listening to the lies he feeds you—"

"Aizen-sama—"

"Listen to yourself, Ulquiorra. Have you ever done anything for _you_?" He hated how his voice cracked, how emotional he was getting, but really, Ulquiorra being so _dense_. "You're marrying this Soul Society princess for Aizen, you learned to fight for Aizen; everything's for _him_, isn't it?"

Ulquiorra blinked and stayed silent to allow the words to sink in. "I wasn't required to befriend you." Grimmjow was about to protest, but Ulquiorra quickly cut him off. "You do everything for Aizen-sama, as well; you wouldn't be here if not for him. When was the last time _you_ did something for you?"

His words, an echo of Grimmjow's earlier ones, cut deep.

.

He hated that Grimmjow made sense. Ulquiorra had never once questioned Aizen's authority, but Grimmjow was making rebellious yet _sensible_ thoughts swarm through his head one at a time, firmly implanting in his skull.

He hated it.

.

"I did more than fucking _kiss_ her—"

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said quietly, his eyes gravely serious. "What is your definition of love?"

Grimmjow frowned, wondering why Ulquiorra needed to know. "It's when two people feel sentimental toward each other." His objective suddenly came to mind, the fact that he was supposed to be taking this man—who was already promised to a fucking _princess_—to the Soul Society.

Ulquiorra was silent for a moment, as if he was processing Grimmjow's words. "I don't understand," he said. The prince's curiosity was suddenly the worst thing in the world, and Grimmjow wanted it destroyed.

"Love is when people care about each other more than in just a friendship way," he tried again. He wasn't an eloquent speaker, he didn't like that he was expected to explain things that people should already have known. "People kiss each other when they're in love," he concluded lamely.

Grimmjow did not mention that he was using the sappy stories he'd heard, that he'd kissed several people and never once felt the same way he felt when Ulquiorra was near him and they talked, really talked. He wanted to chalk it up to lust, but he had a feeling it was more because it had only been a short amount of time.

Ulquiorra glanced at the blue-haired man before speeding up his pace slightly. "I see."

.

Grimmjow had spent the day trying to prove to Ulquiorra that he should make his own decisions and not let Aizen rule over him, but it all seemed to be a pointless quest because in the end, the journey was leading them to Aizen's orders.

Ulquiorra had to admit, though, that he'd had fun. They had stayed on task and continued traveling through the Kingdom of Karakura—to make sure that there would be no unnecessary deaths—but through conversation, Ulquiorra had enjoyed Grimmjow's company.

It had been. . . pleasant, to say the least.

Slowly, he brought up what had been on his mind, "If you had joined the Espada—"

"I'd've been another mindless puppet to Aizen's whims," Grimmjow growled, clenching his fists in a movement most likely unconscious to him. In the few hours Ulquiorra had spent with Grimmjow, he'd paid a lot of attention to his companion.

Grimmjow was, for lack of better word, attractive. He was tall and broad-shouldered with bright blue eyes that shined whenever he discussed a subject he was particularly passionate about. Ulquiorra had the sudden urge to fist his fingers in Grimmjow's hair and see how soft it was.

Ulquiorra shook his head, "I would have met you in different circumstances."

It was true. Ulquiorra knew the other Espada quite well—though he wouldn't consider them friends as he considered Grimmjow one—and he would have preferred it if Grimmjow had been the Sexta instead of Luppi. "It would have made my Las Noches days more interesting."

Grimmjow smiled in what could have been described as a rueful manner but didn't say anything. Ulquiorra wasn't sure if it meant that Grimmjow would have wanted his company or if Grimmjow still preferred his independence.

Regardless, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were nearing the Soul Society.

Aizen-sama always got what he wanted in the end.

.

Grimmjow handed the last of his money to the woman at the desk. She smiled flirtatiously and brushed her fingers against his hand, "You and your friend can stay in room four-oh-six. It's on the fourth floor, sixth room in," she added as an afterthought, as though she was talking to idiots.

He smiled through gritted teeth and beckoned Ulquiorra to follow him, watching as he fumbled with the two swords hidden behind his back. "We'll get our dinner later, 'kay?"

Ulquiorra nodded in silent agreement, and the two made their way up the stairs to find the room Grimmjow had paid for. The place was cheap because it was just a large house a lonely woman rented out to weary travelers.

The room had one single bed and a bathroom, which Grimmjow made his first stop as Ulquiorra placed the weapons on the bed delicately.

Grimmjow was tired, and he was almost grateful that the trip to the Soul Society was going to end. He wasn't relieved, though, because he knew he would miss the prince of Hueco Mundo.

He couldn't deny that Ulquiorra had grown on him and he couldn't deny that he'd resisted the urge to kiss him multiple times that day. At one point, he'd even considered joining the Espada, so that he'd be able to see Ulquiorra again, after the wedding.

Grimmjow sighed loudly and made his way to the bed, sinking into the mattress eagerly. He couldn't believe Ulquiorra—shorter than him, feminine-featured, fifteen-year-old Ulquiorra—was going to be married the next day.

He rolled to his side and tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest. Ulquiorra was engaged.

.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra sat on the bed next to his blue-haired companion, "what are you going to do after this is over?" He leaned back against the bed's headboard, reaching forward to touch Grimmjow's sleeve.

He seemed to ponder the question, his eyes raking over Ulquiorra in the same manner that had yet to be defined. "I'll go back to Hueco Mundo, probably. That's where I live."

Ulquiorra nodded silently, pulling his hand away. He didn't know what answer he'd wanted to hear, so he accepted it at face value.

"And you, are you gonna live in Las Noches again?" Grimmjow demanded, leaning forward.

"Yes. Aizen wouldn't appreciate a Hueco Mundo citizen living in the Soul Society." Ulquiorra placed his hand on Grimmjow's cheek. "Don't be mad. I'm going to kiss you."

.

This wasn't the first time he was craving to taste the man beside him nor was it the first time they had almost kissed. Their faces were getting nearer, and he could feel Ulquiorra's breath on his face. Ulquiorra murmured something intelligible, reaching forward to stroke Grimmjow's cheek.

Ulquiorra initiated the kiss.

Their lips were pressed together in the most innocent kiss Grimmjow had ever had. Ulquiorra was so childlike, his fingers tickling Grimmjow's skin. Ulquiorra's lips were soft, and he smelled intoxicating. Grimmjow's hand slid below Ulquiorra's shirt to tease the skin underneath.

Upon hearing a small moan from the younger man, he lost control, oddly excited. Letting out a low growl, he pushed forward. This was his last chance. Ulquiorra was going to get married. He was going to get fucking _married_.

He heard the dull plop of Ulquiorra's head hitting the pillows, rather turned on by the sound.

Grimmjow's tongue found its way in Ulquiorra's mouth, the shirt they'd stolen ripping apart while their lips never broke contact. Cool air hit Ulquiorra's chest along with Grimmjow's warm fingers, and Grimmjow was sliding his hands between Ulquiorra's legs, hard and craving release in the prince quivering beneath him.

Ulquiorra's hands pulled at Grimmjow's shirt, trying and failing to pull it off as he gasped, though Grimmjow was sure it was from the lack of air and excitement. Grimmjow's mouth was sucking on Ulquiorra's neck, then on his chest, trails of heat leading to his stomach.

Ulquiorra shivered, a whimper escaping his throat when Grimmjow's hands slid down the stolen jeans and brushed his hardened member.

Grimmjow was pulling at Ulquiorra's pants when he heard a cry: "Grimmjow." Ulquiorra was panting; his skin was burning. He was about to reach forward, about to kiss Grimmjow again, but Grimmjow pulled away instantly, recoiling as though he had been slapped. "Grimmjow. . ."

"Shit." He stared at Ulquiorra, who was half undressed, face pink, lips swollen and hair disheveled. It completely turned him on, but all he could think of was how he was supposed to be taking this man to the Soul Society to get _married_ the next day.

He was not supposed to feel any attachment toward a prince, and he especially wasn't supposed to _have sex _with the man. "_Shit_."

.

Ulquiorra felt increasingly guilty. Grimmjow wouldn't look at him—though he had to admit that the inability for him to wear a decent shirt played a role in it—and refused to talk about them kissing. Ulquiorra had theorized why Grimmjow had suddenly pulled away, but he wasn't sure what to say to help him feel better. They'd both wanted it, and it should have been that simple.

"I'm tired," Grimmjow said at last, breaking the silence. "G'night." Grimmjow lay on the floor and turned away.

Ulquiorra sat on the bed awkwardly, staring at Grimmjow, whom he knew was neither tired nor sleeping. He pulled his torn shirt around his body more carefully, trying to hide himself so as to not cause Grimmjow discomfort. He went to sit near Grimmjow, lying down beside him.

For years, he hadn't known what it meant to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. He'd never felt so many emotions whirling through him at once, not until he'd met Grimmjow. Ulquiorra couldn't put a word to what he was going through, but he knew that he liked it.

"I know you're upset, but," he reached forward, placing his hand on Grimmjow's cheek, "this is my last night with you." Grimmjow blinked, and Ulquiorra leaned forward. He hated that he was stepping out of his comfort zone, but it was his final moment to be addressing his status as a soon-to-be-married prince.

Grimmjow said nothing for a moment. "You really want me to forget what your precious Aizen ordered?"

Aizen had always hidden him from everyone; he had trained him to be strong then kept him from using his strength. Ulquiorra had always followed orders blindly and willingly, but Grimmjow had made him wonder if it was worth it.

Ulquiorra stared at him, "I want to do this with you before we make it to the Soul Society."

He just wanted one night. He needed the one night to be normal again, one night to feel happy before he had to listen to Aizen-sama again.

"I'm not a royal, and you'll be wasting your time." He rolled over, and Ulquiorra's eyes traced Grimmjow's back. His fingers clenched and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"I'm going to kiss you." Ulquiorra had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Grimmjow. He wanted to abandon his orders, he wanted to take Grimmjow with him and run away from everything. He wanted to forget he was a prince, to forget that he was supposed to marry someone. They could run; they could be free from Aizen-sama.

"I want you."

.

"I don't know if this is love, Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said after a long moment. He reached forward to stroke Grimmjow's hair.

Grimmjow smiled regretfully, "I don't know either. I've never connected with anyone but you before."

"I agree," Ulquiorra sighed, "but we've known each other for such a short amount of time." It hadn't even been a week.

"Don't risk a war because of something short. Lust, I guess." Grimmjow forced himself to smile again and watched as Ulquiorra stood up and adjusted his clothes. His fingers trying to fix the shirt's buttons seemed to be his only concern for a moment.

"We shall proceed as planned," he said at last. Neither of them wanted it, but Aizen's looming presence seemed to demand it.

"This," Grimmjow gestured at Ulquiorra and him as a single entity, "never happened."

"Agreed."

.

"Delivery," Grimmjow announced, forcing himself not to look at the prince yet pushing Ulquiorra forward. The guard looked at the supposed prince disbelievingly, taking in his clothes—which were caked with dust and were still torn—and his long, messy hair.

"Lord Aizen sent thi—"

Ulquiorra shot a final, desperate look at Grimmjow, asking him silently for something. They both knew what they wanted. If there was a way to run, to leave Hueco Mundo and Karakura and Soul Society, they would do it. If there was a way for them to just be alone together, they would do it. If they could just be themselves, they would do it.

Grimmjow didn't answer, and he watched as Ulquiorra turned to face the guard and become the prince he had temporarily forgotten during the journey. "I understand that my appearance is not what you expected, but you will treat a prince properly."

The guard nodded, familiar to orders, and motioned for Ulquiorra to follow. "Thank you, messenger, for delivering the prince here safely. The Soul Society thanks you." He bowed to Grimmjow and he and Ulquiorra disappeared into the large, double doors, echoes resonating from the tall stone walls. Grimmjow watched their figures retreat, ignoring the tiny prince as he moved toward his future.

He wanted to believe he had done the right thing. He wanted so much to know that he had given up what he'd lusted after—quite possibly loved—for a good cause. He knew, however, that he would receive no such notice.

Grimmjow's heart lurched as he thought of Ulquiorra. He knew that Ulquiorra had wanted Grimmjow to stop him from following the order to marry the Soul Society princess, but at the same time he knew that Ulquiorra was compelled to follow the orders he had been given.

Ulquiorra wouldn't have been happy, if they'd run away together and broken Aizen's orders. They both would have felt guilty, and the inevitable war would have come much more quickly.

Grimmjow didn't know if what they had could be considered love, but they couldn't risk it. As a prince, it had been Ulquiorra's duty to marry in the Soul Society.

.

"When do you believe will be a suitable time for our marriage?" Ulquiorra inquired politely, having changed into better suited clothes for the occasion. He once again was the prince of Hueco Mundo. All thoughts of Grimmjow had to be pushed from his mind.

"If it doesn't bother you too much," Yamamoto paused, "tonight would ensure immediate peace between our kingdoms." The unsaid words included plans for a war against the Kingdom of Karakura to take place the following week.

"Of course." Ulquiorra bowed and exited to the room he was assigned. He had to follow orders.

.

Grimmjow sat on the hill in the Kingdom of Karakura, his fingers tangled in the grass he and Ulquiorra had slept in only nights prior. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed the prince.

Had he loved the prince? Grimmjow had to wonder.

But he had been following orders in making sure Ulquiorra married the Soul Society princess, and by doing so he had ensured a peace between two kingdoms and a war between all of them. Grimmjow frowned, the feeling of being used only going away completely when he thought about the journey he and Ulquiorra had gone through.

They both had changed. Grimmjow was willing to open up to people and had opened up to someone. He could trust someone, if the occasion ever called for it. He gripped his sword tightly.

.

Ulquiorra still did not know the name of the princess he was to marry, but he deemed it unnecessary and buttoned up his shirt. Several people were going to spread the news of the wedding to cause fear in the Kingdom of Karakura.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror and wanted to be someone else. He vaguely wondered if he had made the right decision, but immediately pushed the thought aside.

It had to have been the right decision. Ulquiorra didn't know what love was, and he had no right to assume he'd loved Grimmjow. It had been too short a time, anyway. Sure Grimmjow had changed him, made him trust—and quite possibly love—and think about making his own decisions.

But he was a prince. He had to focus on the good of Hueco Mundo's people before his own wants. The war. . .

_Aizen's orders are more important_, he thought dully. _I was born to be a tool._

.

"Did you hear? There's an alliance between Hueco Mundo and the Soul Society!"

"I heard they're marrying off their children."

"Can't people just sign treaties anymore?"

Grimmjow tried to ignore the chatter as he walked mindlessly around the kingdom, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, Ulquiorra would not leave his mind. It had only been hours, and he missed the prince.

He wanted to be with Ulquiorra again.

.

"I just wanted to let you know that the princess is ready," a bright-eyed woman smiled at the prince, tracing his body with a proud, almost motherly look. He was wearing a suit, clean-cut and handsome, the perfect gentleman for a Soul Society princess.

Ulquiorra nodded and stood up, straightening up his clothes and bowing cordially. "Shall I proceed to the designated area?"

"The wedding will start soon," she said in agreement.

.

"He's _obviously_ the most qualified fer the job," the silver-haired man's grin made Grimmjow place a hand on his sword. It was not in defense any longer. He was tired.

"That's why I'm here," he choked on words he'd never expected to say. Picturing the prince, he strengthened his resolve. Ulquiorra had smiled—a small smile, and the first smile he'd ever seen grace Ulquiorra's features, but a smile nonetheless—when he had seen Grimmjow in the area. It meant something, and he was going to act on it. "I want to be in the Espada."

A woman laughed in the neighboring room, and he could hear the clinking of tea cups; Ulquiorra was in there. Grimmjow scowled but looked up at his king hopefully.

Aizen-sama smirked.

* * *

**So I started writing this in March, but I've been writing it on-again-off-again for ages. I wanted to post this today because it's my last day of school and I want to commemorate the start of summer. So here it is, in all its glory.**

**It's kind of a fairy tale plot, but smothered with semi-darkness and fluffy boyxboy love. =P I'd originally intended for there to be a happy ending, but somehow it became this. OOC-ness overtaking the characters. *shudders***

**Anywho, I tried to load this one with symbols and dialogue and thought shifts and whatnot. I hope it turned out okay, and I hope it made sense. XD**

**Thanks for reading.^^**


End file.
